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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513281">better than I do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) &amp; Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Premarital Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:28:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It makes her whimper very suddenly, the realization of how soon it is. The body she is touching, the breasts and the legs and the part of skin on her neck that tickles when she touches it, will soon belong to Gilbert Blythe. He’ll touch it, see all of it, and it will be his. In two <em>weeks</em>. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>better than I do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from pov by ariana grande.</p>
<p>I didn't beta this so if you see a typo pretend it's a part of it or something idk.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With only two weeks left until her wedding, Anne Shirley is relatively certain her entire life is about to explode. That’s the only explanation for the mounting pressure in her chest, the one that has been building and building all month. It tightens every single time she recalls the flowers to be bundled, the tablecloths that must be ironed, the fact that she still hasn’t purchased all the ingredients she needs to make the cake. </p>
<p>It’s less that she’s obsessed with the concept of the wedding and more that she’s obsessed with the concept of giving everyone around her one last, glorious day as she says goodbye to Avonlea. If she can’t find any vanilla at the general store or she runs out of time to create all the bouquets for the tables, she’ll be delivering a subpar send off for the people she loves. And whenever she pictures that, pictures not being quite capable of saying thank you to her best ability, Anne’s pulse tends to speed up just a little bit more. </p>
<p>She’s been mopping the same patch of floor for the past several minutes, since she started wondering if she should add an extra instrument to the band just in case they need to take a break and sit down— goodness knows how long they’ll be dancing and laughing for. Anne straightens up, startled to realize that for all the scrubbing she’s done, her efforts have been entirely focused on a single patch. </p>
<p>“I think I’ll nap,” she announces, voice too loud considering the fact that there’s nobody in the kitchen with her aside from Marilla. </p>
<p>“I do believe that’s an excellent idea,” replies Marilla, purposefully making her words as stilted as possible in order to properly convey her wry approval. A nap has been suggested by her twice today already. Anne has been fading in and out, kept up last night by the anxiousness and tremulous exhilaration that has been rolling through her body for the past few weeks. She is going to be married soon. To Gilbert Blythe. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the floor,” she says, “but I promise I’ll do it after I wake up.”</p>
<p>“Not to worry,” Marilla replies briskly. “I’ll complete it if I get back from the town counsel meeting soon enough.”</p>
<p>She takes off her apron and  Anne takes it from her hand, hanging it up along with her own pinafore. Reaching over for Marilla’s hat, she finds herself smiling at the ease of it all, the way she moves without thinking, the way she knows everything about how to be Marilla Cuthbert’s daughter. She’s about to embark on something so terribly unknown, something brand new in a way that life hasn’t been for a long time. </p>
<p>Everything, every little decision, will be on her. Her house to keep, her husband to keep, her life to keep, too. </p>
<p>“Would you like me to start supper before you’re back?”</p>
<p>“No need,” replies Marilla. “The meeting should only run a few hours. Matthew headed into town today and Jerry is in the outer fields, so we should be having a late supper. The house will be quiet for your rest.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Anne says, bobbing her head gratefully. “I’ll see you later, then.”</p>
<p>With that, she takes the stairs two at a time, closing her bedroom door tightly so that she can bask in the silence of her sun soaked bedroom. </p>
<p>It doesn’t seem sensible to nap with her corset on, so Anne unbuttons her dress and slides it off of her shoulders, letting it pool to the ground at her feet. She glances up at herself in the mirror as she undoes the binds on her corset, letting it fall to the wayside too, until she’s left in nothing but her shift. She smiles at how childish it is, that time before one puts on a corset, before they are truly put together for the day. It all feels so… familiar. Even though she isn’t the same little girl. </p>
<p>Except maybe she is. </p>
<p>In the mirror, Anne can see the freckles on her arms and face. Although she’d long ago come to accept her hair, the freckles are a nuisance she doubts will ever come into fashion, and no matter how much she wishes she could scrub them off of her skin, they’re here to stay. She wonders if Gilbert will be surprised to find them everywhere. Wonders if he’ll be displeased.  </p>
<p>Taking a step closer to the mirror, she tilts her head to the side and surveys herself, tracing the ins and outs of her body with her eyes. Her shapeless shift only seems to be getting in the way, so she lifts it over her head and blinks at the sight of her bare form, staring back at her in the mirror in a small state of shock. She’s never seen herself like this in the daytime before, eyes bright with curiosity, cheeks flushed with the idea that someone could climb the tree outside her window and see her standing there, bare and intrigued. In the light of early afternoon sun, Anne touches her stomach, right by the waistband of her bloomers. She slides her finger along the band, feeling the smooth strip of skin there, and then covers her stomach with the flat of her palms so that she can slowly slide her hands upwards. From navel to neck, she traces herself, fascinated in the same way she might be when doing a particularly intriguing science experiment. </p>
<p>She learns that she is soft everywhere, but especially her breasts. She learns that the puckered part of her chest, the part that tightens when she is cold or when Gilbert draws near to kiss her, is a shade darker than the rose pink which surrounds it. She’s never needed a name for that part before, but she imagines it must be something magical, such a part. When it sticks out like this, she knows that it must be preparing to nourish a child, and the thought of that makes her breasts tingle even more. </p>
<p>Despite the fact that there is a curious ache beneath her bloomers, Anne remains focused on the planes of exposed skin above them. She runs her fingers from behind her ear to her neck, catching a few strands of her chignon on the way, and the newly released strands fall across her sternum, tickling her there. The sensation causes her to ache even more, and soon her hands are back on her breasts, all thumbs and squeezing fingers and the intellectual, inherent knowledge that she is not supposed to be doing this. She should not be pinching herself like this, nor should her lower parts be throbbing like this. But with her eyes on herself in the mirror, they absolutely are, and over the last few years Anne has learned exactly what to do about it. </p>
<p>She ensures that the door is securely shut before she pulls her shift back over her head. It’ll be easier to explain her nap if she’s not fully naked, even though she longs to feel the air against her bare skin while she lays against her sheets. Her drawers come off next; Anne cringes at the wet spot at the center, bundling them up and tucking them in a drawer. She’ll need to wash those before she moves in with Gilbert— she’s certain she won’t be able to explain that to Marilla while her mother helps her pack. </p>
<p>Anne settles atop her bed and is about to slip beneath the covers when she notices the way the sunshine is peeking through the glass window panes, kissing the skin on her foot. Anne watches the spotlight of her smooth white skin in the sun and wonders what it would be like to have it bear witness to what she is about to do. Certainly  it has seen worse, the sun. And she likes the way it looks as she shifts on the bed and the circle of light moves upwards on her leg, closer to her knee. It feels delicate. A blessing of warmth and beauty. One day, soon, Gilbert will see her like this, and she hopes he will find her just as worth caressing as the sun does. </p>
<p>It makes her whimper very suddenly, the realization of how soon it is. The body she is touching, the breasts and the legs and the part of skin on her neck that tickles when she touches it, will soon belong to Gilbert Blythe. He’ll touch it, see all of it, and it will be his. In two <em>weeks</em>. </p>
<p>The illusion of patience is shattered. Anne parts her legs, letting her hand settle between them as she lightly runs her fingers through the smoothest skin of all, feeling the heat there. She wonders if Gilbert will enjoy that warmth as much as she does— if he’ll understand that the heat means want, that it is there to greet him, to ease him inside of her. She knows enough about what happens between husbands and wives to know that the place between her legs, the part that trembles, is the place where he may make his home inside of her. The idea makes her tip her head back and lift her fingers to the apex of her sex, rubbing an experimental circle around the part that feels like it might truly cause her to cry out in pain if she doesn’t get any relief. </p>
<p>She’s accustomed to feeling like this at certain stages of her womanly cycle, but this is different, this is all because in a week’s time Gilbert’s body will be hovering over hers. It will slide against her skin, it will cradle her close, and most importantly, it will never have to leave her body again. They will exist, eternally, right beside each other, bare and sensitive and so, so in love. She imagines what it would look like if he was lying over her, his forehead creased with concentration the same way hers does when she gets close to reaching what she’s been grasping at. She imagines his breath in her ear, his sweaty chest pressed to hers, and she scrunches up her nose as she lets out a loud moan, unbidden and unwanted, but apparently necessary, from the way her channel clenches and tightens at the sheer freedom of it. </p>
<p>The stress and pressure of planning of a wedding seems to vanish as she arches her head back against the pillow, tousling her carefully swept up hair as she does so. It doesn’t matter, nothing does as she slides a finger into herself, and with a desperate whimper adds another one soon after. Her body seems to know that it’s not enough, that it won’t be enough unless it’s him. It’s exasperating and exhilarating and it makes Anne tremble down to her knees. The freedom of her legs spread to the air, of her sensitive breasts brushing against the rough material of her nightdress. She slides her left hand up her body, pulling it out from underneath her nightdress, to roll and pinches at them, letting another moan leak from her and into the still, quiet air. </p>
<p>It’s then that the door to her bedroom bangs open, revealing Gilbert standing in frame, frantic worry on his face as he searches the room to find the cause of the noise she’d just made. If Anne trusted him any less, perhaps she would listen to the voice in her head telling her to close her legs. Instead, she watches as the expression on his face shifts from worried to surprised,  his mouth sliding open at the sight of her. She can imagine how wild she looks, with her shifting chest and lips shiny with her own spit, red from being bitten. It’s just that imagining such a picture doesn’t do anything to make the throbbing between her legs abate. In fact, it merely worsens it. With Gilbert there, that feeling magnifies tenfold, causing another keen to leave her throat. </p>
<p>“Please,” she gasps, quivering. She makes the decision in a split second, knowing that it’s right for her just as long as it’s right for him. Gilbert blinks himself back to alertness, slamming the door shut and crossing the room to the bed. Instinct alone causes Anne to shrug the sleeves of her shift down, exposing her bare shoulders and chest to him, already anticipating how he could touch her there. Instead, Gilbert sits next to her on the bed and presses his mouth to hers, his hand on her cheek, his lips gentle and soft against hers. </p>
<p>Anne sits up on her elbows, reaching for him, hiccoughing with surprise when his tongue meets hers. She curves her fingers into a fist at the warmth of it, the taste of coffee on his tongue, and then brushes her knuckles down his cheek. It takes a moment to realize that these are the same fingers that had just been inside of her, and Anne pulls away as an embarrassed flush finds its way up her chest and to her cheeks for the first time since Gilbert entered the room. She snatches her hand away and looks up at him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t allow her to linger in shame for long. Instead, he takes the hand in his and raises it to his lips, kissing the tips of her fingers. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to be ashamed, you know,” he says, rubbing his thumb in a circle over the redness on her cheeks. “It’s normal.” He twists his mouth, trying not to smile. “Good, actually.”  </p>
<p>“‘Good?’” repeats Anne, slightly amazed at the ease with which he says it. “And what do you know about that, Mr. Blythe?”</p>
<p>He raises his eyebrows at her words, tilting his head to the side as he thinks about the best way to answer. “Enough,” is what he settles on, with a firmness that causes Anne to rub her legs together. “Want me to show you what else I think I’ve learned?”</p>
<p>Even as she answers, she’s already letting her elbows give out, falling back against her sheets and looking up at him with the kind of affection that she reserves for the people who make her heart feel like it could explode at any given moment. </p>
<p>“What exactly do you mean by ‘think?’”</p>
<p>“Well.” He allows his eyes to flick down to her breasts for the first time, letting them linger there. Anne is so sensitive, so taut, that she can feel his eyes on her. “I’ve never gotten to try it out on you before. On... anyone, for that matter.” </p>
<p>A sly smile crosses her face. </p>
<p>“So you have <em>theories</em>.”</p>
<p>“I do.” </p>
<p>At her expression, he moves his hands down to her bare legs, letting them run up the skin on her upper thighs until he reaches her hips. He squeezes her lightly there, under her nightdress, his adam’s apple bobbing as he does so. Anne spreads her legs wider and observes, amused, as Gilbert nervously wets his lips. </p>
<p>“I have theories too, you know.” </p>
<p>That’s all it takes for him to bend down and kiss her again, sucking her bottom lip between his briefly, just long enough to make her ache return in full force. His fingers tap an anxious beat against the crease where her thigh meets her most intimate part, hesitating only briefly before he runs his index finger down her seam towards the place where she is wetter than she has ever been. </p>
<p>“You’re certain no one else is here?” he whispers as he experimentally brushes the finger through her heat. </p>
<p>“I am,” confirms Anne, tossing her head back a bit as his finger finds that space which always feels so empty without him. It’s bigger than even two of her fingers are, causing a delicious curl of understanding to swirl around her chest. There’s a strange knowledge of her bareness, her nakedness, against Gilbert’s fully clothed body. Her delicacy against his physical strength. The fact that they both have power in their own ways in this moment.  “I... oh, please. There.” </p>
<p>He hums in acknowledgement, adjusting his position on the bed so that he’s in a more comfortable position, seated between her open thighs and dipping low so that he can see what he’s doing. </p>
<p>“You’ll tell me if I’m doing something wrong?” </p>
<p>Affection consumes arousal for just a second, just long enough for her to reach down and stroke a thumb across his forehead, soothing down the furrow of his brow. The confident bravado that is Gilbert Blythe seems to seep out of him, and even as brief as the hesitation is, it still makes her love him more, to know that he wants to do this right. </p>
<p>“Touch me here,” she instructs, bunching her shift atop her stomach so that she can part her lower lips with her fingers and show him the nub at the apex of her thighs. “I like to start it light, until I’m squirming, and then I usually get impatient. I go in circles like this.” She shows him, biting her lip as she navigates her own body.</p>
<p>“The whole time?” he asks, voice low and crackly. The finger that had just been inside of her is resting on his lower lip. She almost moans at the sight. </p>
<p>“Sometimes when I’m close I do this instead.” She slides her palm down so that the flat of it is covering everything, tucking her fingers into herself and pressing hard into her nub with the bones on the corner of her palm. It’s too soon for that, though, and she pulls herself back, not wanting this to end so quickly. “But other than that, I like it to be consistent.” </p>
<p>Gilbert gently takes her wrist and places the flat of her palm against her right breast, effectively clearing her lower half for himself. While Anne eagerly watches, he begins to mimic the motions she’d just been making, finger a little slower than hers usually is, causing her hips to jump towards him in desperation. He ignores the signal, too green to recognize it yet, and focuses his efforts on sliding the index finger of his left hand inside of her, the knuckle of his middle finger rubbing up against her dripping, sensitive folds. Anne closes her eyes, overwhelmed by a sensation that she can’t quite give herself. It feels the same, but also different, but also so much better, so much sweeter, because it’s him. </p>
<p>“You’re so pretty.” He says it awestruck, like he’s marveling, and she thinks he’s talking about her face until she opens her eyes to see his gaze fixed firmly on her folds, eyes squinting in concentration as he tries to keep his rhythm steady for her. </p>
<p>“Have… have you truly thought about this before?” asks Anne, unable to hold her curiosity back even though all she wants to do is focus on his hands. </p>
<p>“Of course I have,” he says, like it’s simple, like it doesn’t make her toes curl. “I thought we’d most likely be doing this in about two weeks.” </p>
<p>“We almost made it,” Anne says, slightly ruefully, but then she feels the shake of Gilbert’s chuckle against her thigh and she finds that she doesn’t much care. “What’s two weeks in the grand scheme of a lifetime, anyways?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” says Gilbert, with grave sincerity. “Absolutely nothing.” </p>
<p>
She giggles, the sound bubbling all the way through her and then vanishing into a hiss as Gilbert presses a kiss against her hip. Anne bends her knees more towards herself, subconsciously opening up, and he releases a soft sigh at the sight. </p>
<p>“What else do you think about?” she inquires, panting as he picks up speed slightly, now edging closer to the pace that she prefers. </p>
<p>“I think maybe… it would be possible to do this to you with my mouth, too.” It’s not something that has ever occurred to Anne before. She opens her eyes, perking up slightly just at the idea. “Something to keep in mind, maybe.” </p>
<p>“I think about being inside of you too,” he admits. “Is that… alright?”</p>
<p>“It’s perfect.” She isn’t sure if he’s talking about the idea of it, or about the fact that he’d just slid his middle finger into her, but both make her clench her walls around him, a hurt noise exiting her mouth when his hot breath fans out across her heat. “I want that as well. I-- I think about that too.” </p>
<p>“It’s going to be…” He shakes his head, trying to pull himself out of it as he edges her closer to where she needs to be. “I’m never going to want to leave our bed, I think.” </p>
<p>“We can fall asleep together, wake up together.” She moans as he rubs her with abandon, mostly losing all pretense of consistency. Anne shifts her hips underneath him, attempting to wiggle so that his movements settle in a way that feels right for her. When she finally finds the pace, she rocks herself up into his hand continuously, feeling all the more powerful for the way his mouth falls back open. “Do this over and over and over again. God, Gil, I think it’s happening. I think--” </p>
<p>Gilbert’s arms have begun to tremble with the effort of keeping himself steady for her, but it’s the combination of his touch and her <em>sounds</em> that pushes her over, catapulting her into a series of shivering, shaking cries that seem to fill up her bedroom. She’s never done this with anyone else before, and the mere knowledge that Gilbert is watching her seems to heighten everything so much further than she can get by herself. She is relatively certain that it’s too late to save her sheets from the tell-tale wet spot that she leaves sometimes, on nights when they have accidentally kissed too much or when he says something about their future together that makes her heart rate spike. On those nights, she would come home and wait until she was certain that Matthew and Marilla were asleep before silently touching herself until it becomes too much. She always releases with a quiet whimper into her pillow, hips still twitching with dissatisfaction, an ache for more. </p>
<p>When she finally comes down from it, the ache for more isn’t there. Instead, she feels the utmost of satisfaction, put there by the knowledge that the sweat on her stomach and wetness on her thighs occurred because of the man who will be her husband soon, who she will spend her <em>life</em> with. </p>
<p>“That was…” begins Gilbert, and then he trails off, shaking his head as he sits up on his knees, giving her some space. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“I’m perfectly fine,” says Anne. “How are you?”</p>
<p>“Also fine,” he says, grinning at her. “Very, very good, actually.” </p>
<p>Anne’s eyes shift down to the tent between his legs, just underneath the material of his trousers. </p>
<p>“It seems like we may not be… done here.” </p>
<p>“Oh.” Gilbert clears his throat, placing his hands in front of himself in a futile attempt to hide himself from her. “I’ll… just need a few minutes for it to… ah. If you don’t mind too much.” </p>
<p>“I certainly do mind.” Making a split second decision, Anne tosses her useless shift over her head and lets it slide to the ground beside the bed, leaving her stretched out bare in front of Gilbert. He stares openly at the expanse of her body, and when she draws his eyes to her breasts by placing her hands on them, she notes with a smirk of satisfaction that he curses quietly under his breath. “I have a strong suspicion that there’s a way we can make you feel as good as you just made me feel.” </p>
<p>“Yes,” he admits. “But we’re not supposed to… until…” </p>
<p>“We just did,” she points out. </p>
<p>“That’s different.” </p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Because…” He trails off, trying to come up with something that makes sense. “Because it was for you.” </p>
<p>Anne laughs, covering her mouth with her hand to try to disguise it. She sits up all the way, drawing him near so that she can kiss him sweetly, threading her fingers through his hair. The material of his shirt scratches against her breasts as she pulls his clothed body against her care one, hugging him tightly while they kiss.  </p>
<p>“Think of it as an educational opportunity,” she whispers in his ear. “Hmm? We can try it once, just once, before we get married. Really know what we’re looking forward to.” </p>
<p>“As much as I want to, we both know we can’t. What if--?”</p>
<p>“What?” asks Anne dryly. “What if I fall pregnant? We’ll already be married, Gil.” </p>
<p>“We can do something else,” he suggests, seeming unconvinced even as he says it. She blinks patiently at him, waiting for him to come up with something better. “You could touch me with your hand, like I just did to you.” </p>
<p>“Or,” she says, lingering on the word. “We could do what we both want to do and it can be our secret for the next two weeks.” She returns to her previous position, on her back, her legs spread to beckon him closer to her. “I’m leaving it up to you, dearest. Take what you want. I’m yours.” A small smile quirks at the corner of her mouth. “Truly, deeply yours, Gilbert Blythe. And I don’t need a wedding to prove it.” </p>
<p>He looks down at her prone body, the shape of her, and she knows that she’s never been much to look at but when he’s watching her like this, she feels absolutely wanton. Irresistible. Gilbert’s presses his lips against hers, then trails them down her cheek and to her neck, burying his face in the skin there as he works his trousers down his hips. </p>
<p>“We’ll have to be fast and quiet,” he mutters. “I’m not sure how much time has past.” </p>
<p>Anne has no idea either, aside from the fact that the sun is decidedly lower in the sky than it was when she began this little exercise. She nods eagerly, more interested in what lies between his legs than she is in his words. He lets her look at it for several seconds, stroking his hand up and down himself as she stares. Somehow, deep within her gut, she knows that this is exactly the thing her body has been craving. Every time she felt empty, every time she felt needy, every time her fingers weren’t enough, this is what she has been wanting. </p>
<p>So she looks up at him, just like she had when he first entered the room, and murmurs “please” in a voice just as desperate as it had been then. </p>
<p>Gilbert nods, firm and certain. He guides himself between her legs, finding her entrance after a few nervous, bumbling seconds. She doesn’t mind at all, allowing him to ease his body inside of hers and then settle over the length of her. It’s an uncomfortably tight fit, but she’s so wet that the stretch feels manageable. Between his fingers and hers, the amount of moisture between her legs, and the way she adjusts her stance to make it more comfortable, she can accept his body into hers as it is supposed to be. </p>
<p>She can feel him trembling over her and strokes her fingers down his back, humming soothing words as he clenches his eyes shut. Anne leans her forehead against Gilbert’s and allows him to adjust to the feeling of being inside of her. There will be other times, better times, but this time is the only first one. All she wants to do is focus on his face, the innocence of him. She knows each and every one of these lines and creases, knows exactly where his wrinkles are beginning to form, knows the force of the breath that he lets out as he tries to steady himself. </p>
<p>“Anne,” he says, voice rumbling through her, deep in her chest. She kisses his forehead and continues to stroke the planes of his shoulders. “<em>Anne</em>.” </p>
<p>“You can move,” she whispers. “Don’t worry about me. You took care of me.” </p>
<p>He groans, burying his face in the dip between her neck and shoulder, his deep voice vibrating against her skin and causing goosebumps to break out all over her body. She loves that they are doing this in the dying dregs of sunshine, bright enough so that she can see how good it feels for him. If they had waited until their wedding night, it would have been dark already. Here, she can note the tremor in his shoulders and the mess of his hair, all things that may have been lost to that moment. This one is hers to keep, now and forever. </p>
<p>Gilbert slides out slowly, then pushes back into her with careful control. She squeezes his hip, telling him she’s fine, and this time his push and pull is faster. He rocks into her, breath coming out in short spurts. The stretch of him is strange and foreign and she feels it somewhere in her hip, in her stomach, in the way her throat is constricting with emotion. </p>
<p>“You feel--” He can’t finish the sentence, but that’s okay. Watching him make love to her like this is enough for her to simply know. </p>
<p>“You and me, we’ll have a baby from doing this someday,” she rambles, trying to give him something to grasp onto. “Someday, we’ll do this and I’ll have your baby and we’ll be our own family, just like it’s supposed to be. We could be making a child right now. Can you believe that? Us, together, making a child. And nobody else will know it’s a possibility but us. It’s <em>ours</em>, Gilbert.”</p>
<p>He ruts into her a few more graceless times before releasing himself inside, his fingers clenched around the fabric of her pillow. Anne turns her head to kiss his white knuckles as he spills into her, feeling the vibration of a whine settled low in his throat. Gilbert lingers inside of her for a length of time, the stretch of him remaining until he finally kisses her collarbone and pulls out of her. Intrigued, Anne scoops her finger through her wetness and brings it to her mouth, tasting something she never has before that she is certain must be <em>him</em>. After she lowers her hand, Gilbert kisses her, and it’s so perfect, satisfying their curiosity together like they always do. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Gilbert says, voice a rumble against the skin on her arm as he deferentially leans his forehead against it. Anne draws him closer, pressing his head against her breast and stroking his hair. She wants to be near him desperately. Now that she knows what it’s like to be full of him, she wants every ounce of weight he provides. “That was… a good start. Right?”</p>
<p>She chuckles and watches as he relaxes against her, knowing how happy she is from her tone of voice. Instantly, he untenses, allowing himself to become boneless, as though the structure of her body is the only thing keeping him from turning to liquid. </p>
<p>“I’m not sure how I’m going to wait another two weeks to start it again,” Anne responds. “But it’ll give me something to think about when I want to close my eyes and blow our wedding into the wind. Truly, Gil, Diana’s was even bigger and she managed to keep her wits about her. Is there something about me that makes me an inherently poor party planner?” </p>
<p>“You’re impatient, you’re a perfectionist, you’re overzealous with the details, you--” She knees him and he lets out a soft “<em>ooph</em>” before they both burst out laughing. “What? You asked!” </p>
<p>“You’re supposed to lie to me.” </p>
<p>“My apologies,” he says. “I’ll remember that the next time you ask me if you have something stuck in your teeth.” </p>
<p>He picks her discarded bloomers up off of the floor and uses them to help clean her up between her legs, humming mindlessly under his breath as he does so. </p>
<p>“At least none of this will matter in a few weeks,” Anne sighs when he’s done, relaxing back against the pillow. Gilbert kisses the side of her breast, affectionate and easy all at the same time. Anne wonders how something that would have turned her bright red not twelve hours ago could feel so easy. </p>
<p>“You have a freckle here,” he says in a hushed tone, like it’s a sacred observation he’s just made. He kisses it again, then wrapping his arms around Anne’s waist. “It’s nice.” </p>
<p>“You’re distracting me from my ranting, you know.” </p>
<p>“I do know.” He looks at her, grinning impishly. “It’s almost as though I’m doing it on purpose.” </p>
<p>“Clearly it’s not working.” </p>
<p>“Oh, clearly.” Finally, he sits up, pulling her along with him and framing her face with his hands. “Anne-girl. Weddings aren’t the end-all-be-all. They’re just the beginning of things. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be right.”  </p>
<p>It’s heavenly, getting to just <em>stare </em>at him like this while he smiles at her, boyish and a man simultaneously. </p>
<p>“You’re right, aren’t you.” </p>
<p>“Almost always,” he teases, kissing her forehead. “And also, we need to get you dressed. I think we’re running out of time here. I came over to ask you on a walk, but it may be too late for that.” </p>
<p>As she slips out of bed and begins rummaging through her bottom drawer for a fresh pair of bloomers, Anne finally notices the burgeoning soreness between her legs, which somehow manages to make her start to ache all over again. She’s starting to contemplate asking Gilbert to test another one of his hypotheses when he comes up behind her with her petticoat, handing it off to her. She reaches for it as soon as she has her shift back on, then makes the executive decision to tuck her corset into her wardrobe, disinterested in wearing it for the rest of the day. </p>
<p>“Marilla thought I was napping,” she explains, stretching languidly. “It wouldn’t be out of character for me to come back down without it.” </p>
<p>“I see.” </p>
<p>He holds out her shirt, letting her slip her arms in before he walks around and begins carefully doing the buttons. Anne watches his concentration, watches him put her back together after he’d taken her apart so well. It’s what he’s always done, isn’t it? No matter what disasters she gets herself into, he’s her most consistent form of safety. He is the thing that holds her together, just as she is the thing that allows him, every once in a while, to fall apart.  </p>
<p>When he finally reaches the top button, he presses a kiss to the corner of her chin and takes a step back, eyes tracing her form.  </p>
<p>“I know I look like a mess.” </p>
<p>“You look like you were just running around outside,” he says fondly. Then he reaches up to touch her cheek, his palm warm on her cheek. In two weeks there will be a ring on her finger that signifies the life they will build together out of nothing. “Anne, you look exactly right.” </p>
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